


Halftime Bet

by aideomai



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 08:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aideomai/pseuds/aideomai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Styles wins a card game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halftime Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely preromantics' prompt of "dice". Much thanks to cyclogenesis for the cheerleading and oddishly for the incredible and brilliant beta.
> 
> Also hi you, I am aideomai on Tumblr as well, come hang out if you like. <3!
> 
> WARNING: this fic contains elements that could be read as dub-con, and a seventeen year old having sex. If you're cool with that, read on!

"Wait, no," Zayn said, looking suddenly panicked. "I didn't mean to put down the – the two, I wanted to put down the—"

"Uh-uh, sweetheart," Nick said. "Too late for that."

"Mate," Liam began, but Nick just beckoned, lounging back in his chair and grinning widely. 

The room went abruptly quiet, except for Ke$ha blaring on the speakers and Louis's laughter slowly trailing off with a plaintive little, "What?"

After a moment, Harry stood up and walked over to Nick.

\---

Eventually, Nick's ears were going to stop ringing and he was going to go home, but at the moment he was too busy high fiving Joe Jonas to care that much. He wasn't sure when this had become his life, but he was feeling pretty smug about it, even with the dead certainty that all of his friends were going to have taped this and be quoting it for months.

For now, though, he had a bunch of very excited teenagers and somewhat less excited popstars surrounding him. He posed for a couple of photos, and went to find a drink.

It was just _that_ much harder in the press to get to the bar than usual – still not that hard, but more effort than Nick usually liked to put into things he wanted. He spotted someone who looked likely to be able to mix him a drink and, if not, know someone who would, and started winding his way through the press of the crowd.

"Grimmy!"

Nick staggered, almost falling under the weight of half an overexcited boyband. Niall seemed to be doing his best to ruffle Nick's hair beyond repair, and Louis had gone for a tackle or something, arms around Nick's waist. He'd given up halfway through and was just hanging there. It was still somewhat effective, and he turned around, accepting Liam's hug and laughing at them all. 

"Hullo, lads," he said. "Having a good night?"

"That was a _good show_ ," Liam said. "Wasn't that a good show? Didn't you think it was a good show?"

"Very good," Nick said. "Are you talking about all of it or just your bits?"

"All of it!" Liam said.

"Pixie Lott's so good," Niall said, starry-eyed and ruddy-cheeked enough that Nick had the feeling _he'd_ managed to find the bar at least. " _So good_. Do you think she'd meet me?"

"Why just you?" Zayn said, hanging back a bit with Harry leaning against his shoulder. "Where's the love?"

"We thought you were good, too," Harry said. It took a moment for Nick to realise that he wasn't talking to Zayn; he kept looking and then looking away from Nick, with this considering sort of grin. Nick didn't know quite what to make of it, nor of Harry's habit of ignoring him a lot and then smacking Nick's arse in front of thousands of teenagers. Nick had decided not to worry about it overly.

He made an airy gesture instead. "Oh, I stole the show, no need to worry about that."

"Can you steal the show if you're hosting?" Liam asked.

"Pretty sure it's your show to begin with then, isn't it?" Louis agreed.

"Don't take me on, boys," Nick said, wagging a finger. "Don't argue it, all right? I was a great success, and I'll destroy anyone who says different."

"Destroy seems a bit harsh," Louis said. "I think I'm going to complain. I'm a teenager, I feel victimized—"

"You don't count as a teenager anymore," Harry said. "You're over eighteen and everything."

"By that reasoning, you're the last one of us," Zayn said, ruffling Harry's hair. Harry leaned into the touch for a moment, and then realised what Zayn was doing and pulled away to fix his hair with his hands, frowning from under his curls. Nick beamed at him, charmed despite himself, and Harry flushed, cheeks pink.

Harry did that a lot, Nick had noticed. It was kind of cute, that he was so easily affected by people talking to him or whatever. Nick was trying not to notice things about Harry Styles that were cute, though, not since Harry Styles had become an actual presence in his real life. 

Or he did his best, anyway. Sometimes it was difficult. He bit his lip and winked at Harry, who coughed and looked away. Twitchy little thing, Nick thought, which was odd, wasn't necessarily the impression he'd got of Harry Styles from everything else.

"Maybe not destroy," Nick allowed finally. "Embarrass, though, definitely. Win a duel of honour against them, or just a game of cards or something."

"Oh, no," Niall said, brightening. "We're brilliant at cards. We play it all the time. You couldn't beat us."

"I would stake my life that none of you have a poker face worth a damn," Nick said, laughing.

"Not poker," Louis said. "We looked it up once but it was all too complicated, mostly we just play Gin Rummy. We'd beat you into the _ground_ with it, though."

"Gin Rummy?" Nick echoed, amused. "Is this truly the glamorous life of Britain's biggest boyband? I'm going to make a documentary about you, wait and see, it's going to be groundbreaking and brilliant and I'll win loads of awards for it."

"I think they're already making a documentary, actually," Liam said. "Sorry, mate."

"Sorry that you'll never see us play," Niall agreed. "But it's also good for your self-esteem."

"I'm starting to feel the challenge being offered here," Nick said. "You boys are a bit too cocky for my liking, need to learn some respect for your elders. What say we find a private room and let me take you down a notch or two?"

Niall bounced up and down. "Yes! Let's do that! Lads, let's—"

"Yeah, all right," Harry said, leaning in closer against Zayn's side. Zayn patted his back, looking down at Harry curiously, and that made Nick want to look, too. He wanted to see what it was, exactly, that made Harry worth looking at besides the fucking usual. Harry's face was shadowed though, hair falling over his eyes, only the crooked smile properly visible.

\---

"I can't believe," Nick said, "I'm playing Gin Rummy with One Direction. I can't tell if this is incredibly cool or incredibly uncool."

"You're doing your radio voice," Harry said. "So it's probably pretty cool."

"My what?"

"Your radio voice," Harry said. "Like you're telling the anecdote already."

"Oh my god," Nick said. "I can't believe you can tell that. You're a sweetheart, Harry Styles."

Harry grinned at him, ducking his head. 

"Let's make it cooler," Zayn said. "And interesting… er. It should be cool and interesting."

"Are you suggesting we put a little money on it?" Liam said. "Haven't you had enough of that since the last time I trounced you?"

"That was a fluke," Zayn said. "But stay cocky, if you like, it'll make it easier for me to beat you."

"You guys really should learn to play a proper card game if you're going to be this smug about it," Nick said. "At least Blackjack. Surely Blackjack isn't too hard to understand?"

"Bit complicated with five people playing, though," Harry said.

"It's really not," Nick said, and was met with five identically blank gazes. This band was a proper menace, he decided. "All right, Gin Rummy it is. I'll adapt. Something to tell my grandkids."

"Or the girls and boys listening to Radio 1 on Monday night," Louis said.

"Well, them too."

"All right, come on, then, who's got a notebook?" Liam said, and there was a little scramble around the room they were in. Harry found one eventually, and set to tearing up pieces of paper to turn into chips. 

Nick found himself betting much higher than he usually would when playing a round with friends, just to keep up with a bunch of overexcited celebrity teenagers who weren't used to having money yet. It would have been embarrassing, except after the first round it turned out that One Direction had been, as a whole, somewhat over-exaggerating their skills at card games.

"That might have been the easiest five hundred quid I ever made," Nick said, laughing and gathering up his tidy little pile of notes. "You better pay up in the morning, you monsters, or I'll go on the radio and make rude remarks and impugn your honour."

"We've got honour," Zayn said. "Don't you dare."

"That's what I'm saying, though, I'm going to ruin it. I mean, it's already fairly ruined, because of how dismal you all are at this game after all."

"Oh, rude," Louis said. 

"Hey," Nick said, "if you want to win it back, by all means—"

"Oh, yes, definitely," Liam said. "Rematch!"

"Rematch!" Niall said, and threw his cards in the air. Then he had to scramble around on the floor picking them up.

"Come on, guys," Harry said. "Let's do something else. Let's – we play cards all the time, come on, we just played the Teen Awards—"

"Too good for us, Harry Styles?" Nick said, and Harry flushed again.

"I just want to – I don't want to play cards," he said, leaning forward over the table. "It's boring. Let's go back to the party and dance or something, Nick, don't you want to go back to the party?"

Nick blinked at Harry, a little startled, because Harry didn't really talk to him that much, was just this occasionally twitchy presence mostly preoccupied with whispering in his bandmates' ears and looking mysteriously attractive. Nick sort of figured that was Harry's whole thing and he wasn't going to mess with that or feel cross about Harry not being particularly interested in making friends with old radio hosts. Harry just looked back, though, still sort of bright-eyed and flushed from the success of the show, tilting his chin up.

"Just put some music on or something," Louis said. "This is important, Harry! Don't you want to help us recover our honour?" 

"Not really," Harry said. "Start without me, I'm going to—"

He made a weird gesture and stood up, wandering across the room. Nick watched him go, the way he sauntered over to the radio and fiddled around with the station for a while until he settled on something playing appropriately Top 40, wandering around the room some more with no apparent aim in mind. He was nursing a glass of something that was almost certainly alcoholic, and when he looked up and caught Nick's eye his cheeks went even pinker.

"Grimmy," Louis said, impatient. "You in?"

"Yeah, yeah, come on, then," Nick said.

Zayn dealt, squinting suspiciously at Nick. Nick leaned back in his chair, making ridiculous _bring it on_ gestures, and feeling all too pleased with himself when Harry laughed across the room. He smiled particularly at Harry, who grinned back at him, then went and sprawled on a sofa, all long easy limbs. His head was tilted back against the arm, eyes closed. He had a nice throat, pale and still a little sweaty, Nick thought, judging by the sheen, though that might have just been the glitter that had been everywhere at the after-party at one point.

Harry sat up again and pulled off his blazer, rolling his shoulders back, and then balled it up behind his head when he lay back. He pushed his sleeves up, too, and raked his hand through his hair. 

"Grimmy," Niall said.

Nick jerked his gaze away, turning his attention back to a table of smirking teenagers. "Oh, my turn?"

He wasn't going to justify their snickering with a response.

\---

"No, no, enough," Nick said, laughing. "I'm going to get in trouble with your mums. The Sun's going to write about me cheating you out of your money and all, it's too much for me. That was it, good game."

"We can win it back!" Niall insisted, wild-eyed. "Zayn, can't we win it back?"

"We can definitely win it back," Zayn said, with Liam nodding firmly. Louis was distracted, had gone over to the sofa and was whispering in Harry's ear. Harry had his eyes closed still, was nodding now and then.

"You can't win it back," Nick said cheerfully. "It's mine now. Nice playing with you, though!"

"No, no, wait, we'll make it more interesting," Liam said. 

"Don't think you can," Nick said, waving his little fan of winnings at them. "I'll accept a cheque, you can send it round to the BBC and I'll photocopy it so's I can frame a copy—"

"Got it!" Niall said, beaming. "We'll throw in Harry."

Nick burst into startled laughter. Zayn raised both eyebrows high, and over on the couch, Harry sat bolt upright.

Louis laughed, too. "Come on, Nick, you scared?"

"What?" Nick said. "Stop being monsters—"

"Totally for real," Niall said, waving his hands expansively. "He's all yours, what shall we say, Hazza, for twenty-four hours?"

Harry said, voice low, "Eight."

"Done," Niall said. "You up for it, Grimshaw?"

"Mate," Liam began, sounding unsure. Nick swept a look around the room; Zayn looked kind of wryly amused, Liam concerned, Niall delighted, and Louis was hugging his knees on the floor, cackling. Harry was watching Nick, expression unreadable.

"This is a terrible joke," Nick said. "What am I going to do, get him to do my chores?'

"No, he's a good sport," Niall said. "He'll do whatever you want. How's that?"

Nick shook his head. "This is a weird game."

"You won't win, anyway," Harry said suddenly. "We're good at comebacks. Unexpected victories, it's our thing, you know?"

Nick looked over at him quickly, narrowing his eyes. Harry had stood up, was leaning casually against the wall now, arms folded. He looked disheveled and still caught up in the joy of the show, all alive and twitchy.

"What if you don't?" he said. "No reason you will, Styles, unless you've all been holding back on me and I don't think you lot have had the sobriety for that. And then what, I get to do whatever I want with you?"

Harry shrugged, looking particularly unimpressed. "That's right," he said. "Unless you're chicken, I guess."

Nick hadn't been able to take his eyes off him all night.

"All right, then," he said, pushing his cards towards the middle. "Louis, your turn to deal."

\---

His cards lay spread on the table.

"How's that for unexpected victories, Harry Styles?" Nick said, and Harry swallowed, coming towards him. 

"No, no," Niall said. "Wait. Rematch."

"Rematch," Zayn insisted. "One more!"

Louis looked speculative and said, "We could throw Zayn in too—"

"We are _not throwing anyone else in_ ," Liam said.

Nick didn't pay much attention to them, staring at Harry. Harry was wide-eyed and shocked, proper deer in the headlights, coming a little unsteadily towards Nick. Nick reached up and curled his hand in the back of Harry's shirt, twisting and holding him tight there.

"Come on, then," Nick said, making to stand. "Time to call it a night, I think, I'm going to collect my winnings and head for bed—"

"Grimmy!" Liam sounded so desperate that Nick turned despite himself.

"Fine," he said. "One more. No more cards, though, let's do something fast, I'll roll the dice for him or something."

"Not fair," Zayn said.

"Everything's been fair so far," Nick said lazily, and gave Harry a decisive tug, pulling him down towards him. To his surprise, Harry slid onto Nick's knee, arms slipping loosely around Nick's neck. Harry let out a shaky breath, and Nick turned his head and stared at him. Harry wasn't meeting his gaze, staring at the tabletop, licking his lips.

"Come on, lads," Harry said, voice low. "Get me out of this or I'll murder you in the morning."

"Dice toss," Liam said, trying very hard to be enthusiastic. "No worries. We'll win you back nice and easy, Harry, no need to fret—"

"Go on, then," Nick said. He put his arm properly around Harry's waist. Harry's shirt was riding up a little and Nick encouraged that, slipping his hand up against warm bare skin, rubbing his thumb over Harry's hipbone. "Got dice?"

"Let me go find some," Liam said, standing up and hurrying around. Nick watched the rest of them, not looking at Harry, too conscious of Harry's warm weight on his knee, Harry breathing close to his ear. He felt small and narrow, easily handled, and Nick wanted nothing more just now but to handle him.

Zayn looked torn between worry, amusement, and wanting to fall asleep; Louis was sitting on the floor with his head tilted back against Niall's knee, watching Harry intently with his lips parted. Niall was clearly trying to psych Nick out with a series of elaborately pulled faces. Nick grinned back at him.

"How's it going to work then?" Liam said, coming back and clutching a dice that he'd nicked from what looked like a Monopoly set. Teen award shows were strange, strange places.

"Everyone pick a number," Niall said, "and whoever's number comes up wins it all back."

"Odds are against me a bit there, aren't they?" Nick said. "Tell you what, Harry's currently in my possession, if he wins I win. How's that, Styles?"

Harry kept his gaze low. "All right."

"Then it's still two to four," Nick said. "That's lovely odds your way. Plus young Harold seems to think that you lot are best at unexpected victories."

"That's right," Harry said, and Nick put his arm around Harry's waist, drawing him in a little closer. Harry was breathing quite quickly, and Nick almost thought that if they were pressed any closer he could feel Harry's heart beating. It took some effort not to just drag him in and make sure of it.

"Right," Zayn said. "Right, right, everyone pick a number—"

"Harry can pick both of ours," Nick said lazily. "He's my lucky charm tonight." He squeezed the arm around Harry's waist, felt Harry shiver.

"Three," Harry said, low, "and four."

Zayn made an elaborate show of kissing the fist that held the dice, and Louis waggled his fingers while Niall did some sort of lucky dance. Liam mostly just looked concerned, staring at Nick and Harry, and Nick kept his gaze lowered, playing at demure, smiling at the floor. 

When he glanced up, Harry was watching him. Nick stared back, tried to work out what Harry was thinking. Harry looked shy and intent at once, and Nick was the one who looked away first, at the clatter of dice on the table.

The four came up nice and easy.

Nick turned his head and kissed Harry's cheek. "Well played. Strong choice."

"No, come on, now," Liam said. "We'll have another game. Best of three—"

"Bit late, lads," Nick said, with a theatric yawn. "Think it's time for me to go to bed, actually. Come along, Harry."

He pushed Harry off his knee gently but didn't let him go far, standing up and draping an arm around Harry's shoulders. The rest of the boys stared at him, looking sort of wide-eyed and confused, and vaguely desperate. Nick was feeling way too pleased with himself. This was going to be the _best_ story.

He made a big deal of tucking his other winnings into his pocket, and then looked at Harry. "Got your blazer?"

"Louis'll get it," Harry said quietly. "Are you staying in the hotel, then?"

"Yes," Nick said. "Off we go. Night-night, all!"

"Harry," Zayn said, and Harry leaned against Nick's side, resting his head briefly against Nick's shoulder. Nick looked down at him and winked again, but Harry just peered up at him, face grave.

It took a great deal of effort, strolling down the hallway and peering back over his shoulder, not to take a photo on his phone. Four-fifths of One Direction stared out of the doorway, looking torn between charging in to save the day and desolately resigned. He restricted himself to a cheerful wave, tightening the arm he had around the fifth's shoulders.

"They're a bit mad, your band," he said.

"It's been a big night," Harry said. He sounded distracted, and Nick resisted the urge to ask Harry if he didn't get the joke or what. There was something prickling low in Nick's stomach, and he didn't want to say anything about jokes. 

He wasn't sure how much he was joking. The memory of Harry's weight on his lap, the easy possessiveness crowding up inside him made him all too serious. Harry was warm, heavy weight against his side, and he'd slipped his hand into Nick's back pocket. Nick tried not to look back at the band again, just to see how they were taking this.

He let go of Harry in the lift, leaning back against one side and looking at him. "You have a good night, then?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Really good."

"That was a good show. Your performance, I mean, you were really good."

Harry grinned, big and unexpected. "Thank you."

"Come on. You totally know that." Nick glanced at the mirror in the lift, and then quickly looked away again; it was better to just watch Harry, all dark-eyed and impossible to read, better than catching sight of himself and the way he was staring at Harry, like he was fretting to all hell about what the fuck was going on inside Harry Styles' head.

Harry shook his head. "I'm just glad you think so."

"Yeah? Even after I won you from your band?"

Harry said, "I'm going to – they'll owe me big time."

"Mm," Nick said, as they reached his floor. "Well, I'm the one who's owed right now. Come along."

The floor was blessedly empty; Nick wasn't sure what he would have said to anyone who asked why he was ushering a wide-eyed underage popstar into his bedroom. Harry turned around when they got into the room, hovering a little uncertainly, and Nick switched the lamp on.

"Well," he said, and laughed.

Harry said, "What do you want?"

Nick raised his eyebrows. "You going to do it then?"

"You won me, didn't you?" Harry said, and Nick laughed incredulously, shaking his head and leaning back against the door, folding his arms. These boys had so much _bravado_.

"Go on, then," Nick said. "Get your trousers off."

Harry licked his lips and then kicked his shoes off, eyes on Nick. Nick waited, nonplussed, ready for Harry to break down in laughter or something, but instead he just toed his socks off and then went for his fly, pushing his trousers down and leaving them crumpled on the floor. They were far too expensive to be doing things like that with them, Nick thought, while the greater part of him was having a quiet breakdown.

"Just my trousers?" Harry said, voice low and gravelly, deeper than usual.

"Hurry up," Nick said, still waiting, but instead Harry began unbuttoning his shirts, fingers clumsy on the buttons. Nick stared, and then, when Harry was about to push it off, said, "No, leave it like that."

Harry nodded quickly. "Yes. All right. And my—"

"Yeah," Nick said, and Harry pushed his underwear off. It would be better if he looked embarrassed, or like he was trying not to laugh, but instead he looked overwhelmed, turned away as though he couldn't bear to see Nick staring at him, but only went and crawled up onto the bed. Nick stared at his perfect little arse, then drew in a rough breath when Harry rolled over onto his back, spread his legs. 

Nick drew in a breath and tried to reevaluate very quickly every fucking second that he and Harry Styles had ever shared in the same room. He rubbed his hand over his face very quickly, because he didn't want Harry to see how obvious he was being right now.

"You _want_ this," Nick said, aiming for authoritative and coming up with tentative wonder. "God, you do, don't you?"

"Doesn't matter," Harry said. "You won me, do what you want."

"Unexpected victories, huh?" Nick said, and rummaged in his trousers for his wallet. "What if I want to fuck you, huh?"

"Then—"

"I get it," Nick breathed. "Yeah. Yes."

Harry was staring up at the ceiling, and his flush had spread over his chest, too. Nick fumbled through his wallet for a condom and then got undressed pretty quickly, coming and crouching over Harry. Harry stared up at him, eyes wide.

"I don’t know if I've got much slick," Nick said. "So you're going to have to work with me, boy-o."

"What?" Harry said faintly, and Nick bent down and kissed him.

Harry pressed himself up close against Nick without hesitation, winding both arms around Nick's neck. Nick bit his bottom lip and Harry moaned, mouth opening wet and hot against his, all warm and pliant in Nick's arms. 

Nick tangled a hand in Harry's curls and this time there was no objection to his hair being messed up, just a slight tightening in Harry's grip on Nick when he tugged. Harry was thrusting his hips up against Nick, cockhead shiny with pre-come and slipping against Nick's stomach.

 _How about that smack on the arse, then_ , Nick thought, even if a lot of Harry's weird on and off flirtation seemed a lot less fucking annoying all of a sudden. Instead he shifted slightly, kissing the corner of Harry's mouth and then his cheek, his jaw, mouth trailing down over Harry's skin. He ignored the way Harry tried to turn his head, seeking out Nick's mouth again.

"Wait," Harry said, "come back—"

"Whatever I want," Nick said, and hooked two fingers over Harry's lip, scraping gently at the backs of Harry's teeth. He laughed against Harry's neck when Harry immediately started sucking at them, curling his tongue around Nick's fingers. Nick glanced up at Harry and found he had closed his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering against his skin. The kid was too fucking pretty, and Nick pushed another finger into Harry's mouth, watched the way Harry just took it. He wanted to see Harry's mouth stretched around his cock, but – maybe later.

He shifted back, moving down to lie between Harry's thighs. Harry pushed up on his elbows, peering down the length of his body at Nick. Nick laughed, leaned in to nuzzle at the soft, warm skin of Harry's stomach, carefully avoiding Harry's cock even when Harry pushed his hips up hopefully.

"You fucking popstar," Nick said, delighted. He couldn't believe how desperate Harry was already, how much he clearly wanted this. Nick wondered if he'd been thinking about this before today, back at the GQ dinner when he was smiley and coy, talking to his bandmates more than Nick but watching Nick the whole time. "You must be so used to people just slavering over you."

"I don't," Harry said, stuttering a little. "I – what do you—"

"That's right," Nick agreed. "My turn, huh?"

"Yes," Harry said, and dropped his head back against the pillows with a groan when Nick let one finger rub over Harry's hole, watching it clench under his touch. He bit gently at Harry's thigh, scraping his teeth.

"Easy does it," he said, and pressed his finger in. Harry tensed and then let out a loud breath, bringing his knees up and spreading his legs a little more, trying to get himself open for Nick. Nick stared in awe, and couldn't resist pushing in another finger, too soon, watching Harry moan shakily, rubbing his hands against his face like the blush was itchy.

He was already so far gone. Nick nipped at Harry's inner thigh again.

"Like this, huh?" he said, and Harry nodded, turning his cheek against the pillow like he was searching for something cool. He was already feverish hot and so fucking tight, clenching down around Nick's fingers. Nick wondered how Harry's pretty band managed it, how long they spent taking him apart. Or maybe the rumours weren't true, but Nick wasn't hugely interested in that right now, didn't care about anyone who wasn't in the room right now.

An idea struck him, and he leaned in closer, sucked for just a moment at the head of Harry's cock. Harry's hips jerked up, trying to fuck into Nick's mouth. Nick pulled back with a disapproving noise.

"Rude," he said. "Be nice, now."

"Sorry," Harry said, looking abashed. Nick nosed at Harry's thigh before moving in to press his mouth up against his fingers, licking in between them over Harry's hot skin. 

Harry yelped and arched his back, the line of his body taut and tense like he couldn't believe anyone would do anything like that. When Nick licked into him with the tip of his tongue, Harry moaned like it had been torn out of him. 

Nick kept it up, fucking his fingers into Harry with short little slick thrusts, getting him wetter with his tongue, not bothering to be particularly neat about it. Harry was all twitchy, toes curling against the blankets, and he was still clenching hot and tight around Nick's fingers, so Nick decided a third finger would be a good idea.

"Fuck," Harry said. "Fuck, _fuck_ —"

"Easy," Nick murmured, stroking his hand over Harry's hip. He crooked his fingers inside Harry and pressed a kiss just next to them, and Harry made a shocked noise and came, white streaking over his stomach.

For a moment Nick didn't move, taken aback, and then Harry shivered and tried to roll, moved to hide his face against the blankets as if he was ashamed. Nick grabbed his hip with his free hand and shoved him back flat against the blankets, holding him there.

He nosed at Harry's hip, waiting for him to calm down again. When Harry was quieter, Nick went back to fucking Harry with his fingers, just two now, rubbing inside him like he was sore. He made soothing sounds at Harry when Harry whined, sounding confused but not entirely distressed.

Harry was breathing hard. He rubbed his hands over his face and said, voice a little shaky, "I'm – I could suck you off? I'm sorry—"

"No need to apologise, sweetheart," Nick said, slipping his fingers free and pressing a kiss to Harry's hip. He reached for the condom he'd thrown on the bed and sat up, tearing the packet open and rolling it on. He had a fucking pathetic little sample of lube, too, and he slicked that on over his cock, gripping at the base for a moment just to get control of himself. 

Harry looked so small under him still, and Nick's breathing felt a little stuttered. It would have to be enough, though, the lube on the condom and the way Harry so clearly fucking _wanted_ it, moaning when Nick stopped fingering him, little hole clenching down on nothing like he just _needed_ something to fill him up. "I still get what I want."

"Ah, god," Harry said, looking frantic. His cock was already swelling again, hadn't even had the chance to go soft yet. Fucking seventeen year olds, Nick thought, amused. "I don't know if – I can – just wait a bit—"

"Doesn't really matter if you can or not, does it," Nick said, hoarse. "You're my prize tonight, I intend to have you as much as I want."

"God," Harry said, wriggling back against the bed and trying to spread his legs wider, lifting his hips up towards Nick as if he couldn't wait another damn second.

Nick caught Harry's narrow hips in his hands, just about covering them, dragging him down the bed and up against him. Harry got both his legs around Nick, ankles crossed in the small of Nick's back. Nick laughed down at him, beaming stupidly.

"You're something," he said.

Harry shook his head impatiently. "Come on," he said. "Come on, come on—"

Nick had meant to shove into Harry hard, take him in one sharp thrust, but it wasn't fucking possible. Harry was so tight, and Nick had to go slow, rocking into him with shallow little thrusts, opening him up on Nick's cock. Harry just gasped, rough in the back of his throat, scrambling for a hold on Nick's shoulders and then the sheets, like he needed something to hang onto to anchor him.

Harry was so tight it almost hurt, and Nick dropped his forehead against Harry's shoulder, breathing hard. When he was finally in, hips pressed up against Harry's arse, mouth open on his shoulder, both of them moaned, and Nick just stayed there for a moment, one of Harry's hands clenched in his hair.

He lifted his head and stared. Harry's head was thrown back, the line of his throat sweaty and pale and god, Nick just wanted to _bite_ him. 

Harry blinked at him. His eyes were wide, bright, and Nick thought for a moment that he saw something like tears shining there. 

"All right?" he said, voice rough.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Just – just do something, please—"

"Yeah, yeah," Nick said, and set up a slow, rocking pace. 

The heels of Harry's feet were pressed against his arse, and Harry was holding onto his hair tight with one hand. Nick was sweating, burning hot everywhere Harry was touching him. Harry kept gasping like he couldn't catch his breath, mouth open and eyes wild.

"Harry," Nick said. "You with me?"

"You're just – really big," Harry said, voice strained. Nick leaned to kiss him, messy and comforting. Harry seemed eager enough about that, but a moment later he started making whimpery desperate noises, presumably complaining about the way Nick could only fuck him shallowly like this, the two of them pressed too close together.

"You want it hard, huh," Nick said. Harry made an agreeably desperate sort of noise. 

Nick laughed, bit Harry's neck– god, he wanted to leave marks, though – and shifted back a little, holding himself above Harry. Harry groped after him frantically and Nick grinned down. His hair was hanging in his eyes, quiff long since ruined, and he grabbed at Harry's wrist, pinning it down to the bed.

It was easy, then, to give himself over to it, to fuck Harry exactly as hard as he wanted, pounding into him while Harry writhed beneath him, rocking up against Nick. Nick kept his hand circled tight around Harry's wrist, holding on hard enough that he could see the skin going white around his fingers.

He was expecting it this time when Harry came, arse clenching around Nick, the muscles in his stomach jumping. 

Nick groaned, falling forward to hold Harry closer as he lost the rhythm completely, hips jerking against Harry. Harry whined and then scratched stubby nails down against Nick's shoulder, dragging hard enough that Nick thought he'd have marks there tomorrow, and then he was saying Harry's name, sounding embarrassingly bewildered as he came.

When he could think again, he half-wished that they'd put the radio on or something. The sound of their breathing was almost too loud in the room, Harry's hitching a little, a ragged edge to the noises he was making. He groaned again when Nick pulled out, palming Harry's hip soothingly, and made a potentially shitty attempt to lob the condom at the bin. He didn't look to see how well it had gone.

A little awkward, he slumped back down on the bed, leaving Harry some space, but Harry rolled towards him immediately, shivery and long-limbed, apparently trying to wrap himself around Nick again in his eagerness to kiss him. Nick kissed him back, trying to calm him down, but Harry stayed close, pressing up against him, winding their legs together. Nick dragged him in, hands on Harry's arse.

He couldn't resist letting his hand wander down to touch at where Harry was open and slick still, rubbing over him, and Harry made pained little noises but pressed closer to Nick all the same.

\---

"Wake up," Nick whispered, kissing Harry's cheek. "Hey. Hey. Don't go to sleep."

"M'not," Harry said. He sounded dazed. "Time s'it?"

"I don't know. When did we leave the others?"

"Two?"

Nick lifted his head, looked at the radio alarm clock on the bedside table. "Just hit four," he said. "I've got hours left of you yet, Styles."

Harry moaned, pressing in closer to Nick. He kept getting drowsier, though, mouth going slack as Nick kissed him. He was snuggling in closer like all he wanted to do was rest his head against Nick's chest and sleep, which was _adorable_ but not at all what Nick had in mind.

Nick considered for a moment, and then nodded to himself.

"Come on, rockstar," he said, and smacked Harry's arse, open-handed and loud in the quiet. Harry jerked, eyes opening wide. "You're filthy. Into the shower with you."

"Oh," Harry said. He didn't sound quite as though he knew how to do it, and Nick laughed and sat up, hauling Harry up with him. Harry drooped against his side, warm and biddable.

"Shower," Nick repeated. "Come on, then."

"Right, yeah," Harry said, and stumbled up to his feet. He was moving so carefully, wincing a little with each step.

Nick overtook him, heading into the bathroom and switching the light and shower on, turning to wait for Harry. In the sudden flood of light Harry looked even more filthy, mouth red and come drying on his stomach. Nick stared at him, swallowing hard. _He_ wasn't seventeen anymore, but he wasn't done for the night either, he decided.

Harry stumbled past him and climbed right into the shower. Nick let out a squawk of laughter.

"Your _shirt_ , popstar," he said, and got in behind Harry. 

"Oh," Harry said, looking mildly confused. Nick pulled him in close and kissed him, wrangling the wet material off and tossing it over the top of the cubicle into the bath. It wasn't like Harry hadn't been practically bare to him before, but it felt good having this, too, drawing Harry in close against him and running his hands down Harry's back, feeling greedy enough that touching him all over seemed like both a good and worthy way to spend the rest of his evening. Morning. Whatever.

Harry kissed him back until they were gasping for breath under the stream of water. Pressed this close together, Nick was pretty sure that the way Harry was rubbing himself against Nick's cock was deliberate, and he was even more sure when Harry pulled back and said shyly, "You can – again, if you want."

"What now?" Nick said.

"Fuck me," Harry said. "If you want."

"Mm," Nick said, laughing. "I think that'd do. I – hang on, let me grab a condom—"

"You don't need to do that," Harry said.

"Ah." Nick let out a shaky breath and kissed Harry again, holding Harry's face in his hands, tilting his chin up towards Nick. "You're awfully sweet, but that's not a good idea."

"Are you – you're okay, right—"

"Yeah," Nick said, doing some quick frantic calculations in his head. He was, and he also hadn't had sex in a depressingly long time. "But – look, you haven't been letting boys fuck you without condoms, have you? It's not a good idea—"

"I haven't let anyone fuck me," Harry said.

Nick stopped.

"Before this," Harry said, looking kind of embarrassed and defiant at once. "Obviously."

"I just – I thought you had," Nick said. "I presumed you had."

Harry shrugged. He looked very young indeed under the bathroom lights, bony shoulders and thin chest. 

"I, uh," Nick said. He almost wanted to apologise.

"It was good," Harry said, "you can, you can do it again, if you—" and then he let out a rough breath and apparently gave up on talking. He turned around instead, resting one arm against the glass wall of the cubicle and reaching back with the other to hold himself open, spreading his legs and settling his feet as firmly against the wet tiles as possible.

Nick meant to be gentle this time, he really did. Instead he got one arm around Harry's waist and fucked into him hard, setting his teeth into Harry's shoulder. Harry squirmed back against him, hand jerking over himself, so fucking noisy about it that Nick felt briefly nervous about any possible neighbours. 

He came long before Nick, sagging and letting himself be held between the glass wall and Nick's body. Nick dropped his hands to Harry's hips and gave himself over into fucking him. When he came, he bit Harry hard enough that Harry yelped. He was laughing sort of breathlessly when he pulled out.

Harry reached back to touch himself, cheek pressed against the glass door, rubbing against the slickness of his hole, raising his fingers to peer at the come that was leaking out of him. Nick let Harry lean back against him for a long while, head tilted back against Nick's shoulder, breathing steadily under the shower.

Nick switched the water off finally, and Harry turned and slipped one arm around Nick's waist, slumped against him so Nick had to handle him bodily to get him out of the water, practically dragging him along. He got a big towel off the rack and used it for the both of them, rubbing Harry down while Harry leaned up and tried to kiss him, little grumpy bites along Nick's neck and chest.

"Come on, come on," Nick said, "back to bed." Harry wrapped his arms around Nick, shuffling along with him. Nick wanted to laugh, but there was a weird lump in his throat that he couldn't explain, abruptly dazzled by the fucking teenager trying to hold his hand. 

They got in under the covers this time, and Harry pressed up to Nick.

"Let's stay up," Harry said.

"I thought you'd want some rest," Nick said. "You're such a sleepy little thing."

"No, no," Harry said. He yawned. "How many hours left?"

Nick leaned over to check his phone. "Still a few. You're right, though. Don't want to waste them sleeping, eh?"

"No," Harry said, and looked pleased.

\---

There wasn't any way Nick was going to be able to get hard again tonight, but he didn't even mind, stretching out on top of Harry while Harry clung on as tight to Nick as he could.

Somewhere in the hotel everyone else was still partying. Nick toyed with the fantasy of taking Harry up on his suggestion of going down to dance; thought about pulling Harry in close and grinding against his arse, showing off the way Harry was near swooning back against him, sucking a claim into Harry's neck while everyone watched.

What he wanted more, though, was to lie here and make out with Harry Styles just as lazily as he wanted, keeping it slow and casual even with Harry panting and rubbing up against him. He was feverish hot and overstimulated, sniffling when Nick reached between them to stroke at Harry's cock again, making broken noises in his throat but not once telling Nick to stop.

Nick threw back the blankets eventually, ducked down to take Harry's cock in his mouth and suck Harry off. Harry whined and wriggled through the whole thing, alternating between trying to push Nick away and getting rude and fucking up into Nick's mouth. Nick liked it all, far too much.

He swallowed when Harry was done, came up wiping his mouth and grinning at Harry. Harry pulled him in, hand on the back of Nick's head, dragging him into a kiss. 

"You're really cool," Harry said.

"What?"

Harry sounded beyond out of it, almost slurring. He pulled Nick's arm up over himself. "I think you're well cool. That's all."

Everything was fucking ridiculous. There was no reason why Nick should feel so stupidly overwhelmed by that, heart doing strange clenchy things in his chest.

"M'gonna sleep," Harry mumbled. "Sorry."

"How dare you," Nick said, tucking his face against Harry's hair, and proceeded to sleep through his last four hours of possession.

\---

"Hey," Harry said. "Hey. Hey, wake up."

Nick yawned, grabbed for Harry's wrist, and tried to pull him back down. Then he woke up properly a little ashamed, because _that_ was an annoying instinct that couldn't become habit.

Harry grinned down at him. "Hi."

"Hiya," Nick said blearily, rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Five to ten."

"That's fucking early," Nick said. "Why are you getting up?"

"My band's going to knock down your hotel door in about five minutes," Harry said. He was rubbing his wrist absently; there was a dark bruise coming up there. It was very distracting. "I just turned my phone on, it's about to hit crisis point."

"When did you turn your phone _off_?"

"Bout the time Zayn started rubbing his eyebrow," Harry said.

"What?"

"Oh, that's his tell," Harry said. "When he's losing at cards."

"And when Zayn loses everyone loses?"

"Everyone else is really rubbish at cards," Harry said. "Zayn and I win every time. And I stopped playing."

He smirked at Nick, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"I was right," Nick said. "You are a monster."

"Mm," Harry said. "I should go."

"I've still got three minutes," Nick pointed out.

"Maybe I'm a cheat," Harry said. "Or maybe I'll just give them back to you later."

"Wait, no," Nick said, and lunged for his trousers, rummaging around until he managed to produce a two-pence piece. "Here. Here. We'll just have a – a coin toss."

"What for?" Harry said, but he was starting to smile, all crinkly and warm.

Nick looked up at Harry, wondering what the fuck was _up_ with this damn kid. Harry leaned back against the door, watching Nick with this delighted expression, like he knew that all of a sudden Nick felt like he was the one who wanted to hang onto Harry and not let go, like Harry was the one who'd won him. 

"Double or nothing?"


End file.
